I like music! I particularly like songs that tell stories or take us to a place where reflection is possible. Often, to the joy of some and the annoyance of others (including my dog, Indy), I have a go at singing them! To make matters worse – for Indy and others – last year I bought a ukelele and have been trying to play along with some of the songs I sing, resulting in barks and barbs in equal measure but, the show must go on.
In this month of November, there is a song that I like to hear and, in very recent days, sing. Written by the late (and great) Christie Hennessy, it is a song called ‘Remember Me’. In it, Christie speaks for those who are gone. He reminds us that they are inviting us to remember. Remembering is an invitation to peace of mind and heart, as those gone seek to wrap themselves around us in a blanket of security. Wrapped in this blanket called memory, the “faithful departed” continue to shelter us, reassure us and journey with us throughout the days and especially those days that are more difficult than others.
“Every night and every day
I’ll be by your side
just reach out and take my hand
and I will be your guide
And anytime you feel like
you can’t make it through
remember me
and I will be with you”.
Soulful
Christie’s soulful and distinctive voice adds to the poignancy of this invitation to remember. In his voice, we hear others – the voices of those we have known and loved who have gone to their eternal reward. As in Christie’s lyrics, those gone before us invite us to remember, not out of morbidity but rather that we might find peace and strength.
In this month of November, the Church calls us to enter a place of remembrance. Every parish and church will feature names of loved ones, some of whom have died in the recent past and others gone for many years. These lists are important and speak to a reverence that is inherently present in the hearts of those who grieve, remember and pray.
I try to read through the lists that people submit for November Masses. I might not always get to do this, but it is something I have tried to do through the years. Though many of the names may be unknown to me, I like to let my eyes roll over the names, in the awareness that someone sat at a kitchen table or a quietened sitting room to compile the list. I imagine the empty sheet of paper, touched by the pen, held in the hand of one who sees this as an important act of connection. The paper absorbs the ink as the hand forms the letters that tell the story of a life, a loss and a lasting connection. There is something very powerful being done in this simple act of recollection. Many of the names come quickly to mind, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives and, sadly for some, sons and daughters. Other names come from the homeplace – neighbours, old school friends, teachers and others who had a part to play in the shaping of life. I feel a sense of contentment when I see the names of priests who might have ministered in the parish decades ago. There is something reassuring in seeing their names included. There is honesty too, in the awareness that the priest, like the parishioner, is a pilgrim who may have fallen short along the way and for whom a prayer seems a natural response to genuine gratitude. Though I am certainly in no rush, I would like to think that someday, someone might include my name on a November list.
In reflecting on Christie’s lyric, I pray that all who feel the deep loss of a loved one, might draw comfort in faith, certainty in doubt and peace in that invitation to “remember”.
Headstones and inscriptions
I noticed a picture online recently of a mother’s headstone. The family clearly had a sense of humour and the mother must have as well. The front of the headstone bore the usual details you would expect, name, date of birth and date of death with an invitation to pray. On the reverse of the headstone was one of the mother’s favourite recipes for bread. When people asked for it, she would reply: “over my dead body!”
That’s where the family placed it.